


Broken People

by dracusfyre



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky and Tony are held by Hydra, Dubious Consent, M/M, Post CA: TWS, Prompt Fill, Steve Is a Good Bro, in the form of "fuck or die" kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13027863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: Prompt fill from imaginetonyandbucky:During Afghanistan, the ten rings got frustrated and sold Tony to hydra for hydra weapons and made him the Iron Soldier. After Steve gets Bucky back from Hydra (idk Cap 3 w/ civil war?) Bucky not only remembers the other winter soldiers, but the soldier he fell in love with (Tony) and basically him and Steve go save him (like when they went to Siberia in the movie but none of the "running from the law" stuff)So I didn’t follow the prompt exactly because there’s already a great story like this on ITAB already and I wrote something similar to it not too long ago (Making a Hero), so I went in a slightly different direction.  Instead of Hydra getting Tony from the 10 Rings, they got their hands on him when they assassinated his parents…





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky collapsed on the arm chair across from where Steve was watching TV and doodling idly. “I’m forgetting something,” he announced. Bucky knew the irony of that statement before he ever saw the look on Steve’s face.  But this was different.  Bucky, of all people, could tell the difference between memories he didn’t know he’d lost and being acutely aware of a gap in his memory, a gap that he kept worrying like a loose tooth.  

Steve opened his mouth and appeared to go through a couple of responses before he said, “Ok. Let’s see.” He set aside the sketchbook and sat forward, elbows on his knees.  “Is it a recent memory or from, you know, before?”

Bucky sat back and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to concentrate. “Before. With – with Hydra.”  Which didn’t narrow it down much at all.  Hence part of his frustration.

“Ok. Is it a person, place, or thing?”

Bucky groaned.  “I don’t know.” A door came to mind, featureless and metal. “A thing? No.” He imagined walking towards the door, grabbing the doorknob- no. This door always slid open and closed with a metallic, dread inducing _clang_.  He tried to think of what was on the other side of the door but came up blank.  All he had was a sense of urgency.  “It’s a place.  There’s something important about this place.”

“Alright.” Steve picked up his sketchbook and pencil again.  “Tell me everything you can remember about this place.”

 It wasn’t much, of course. Cold. Snowy. Always a long plane ride, with mountains in the background as you approach the door.  Steve pulled up a map on his laptop and they narrowed it down to a few dozen possible locations in Siberia. 

Bucky groaned when he saw the length of their list but Steve just patted his knee.  “Ok.  I’ll call Fury, he’ll be able to rule some of these out.”

In the end there were only five locations that they needed to check out in person, and Bucky knew before they ever landed at the third site that this is the one he’d been trying to remember. The door looked just as he remembered it, and his hands knew which buttons to push on the key pad without his brain ever thinking of the combination.

The place was deserted, its cement corridors cold and bare.  Some of the lights still worked, flickering and buzzing eerily.  Their steps echoed as they cleared the compound room by room.  Eventually they came to a room, circular and spacious and ringed with cryo tubes; it was cold enough here that every breath stabbed sharply in Bucky's lungs. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed.  “Who are these people?”

“Other Winter Soldiers,” Bucky said with a sinking feeling. He stopped Steve when he reached out to look at the controls. “Don’t. They were…They are better off frozen.”

“Was this what you were trying to remember?”

Bucky shook his head and kept walking, letting his feet guide him.  He passed a room that he knew had been his his cell and hesitated but didn't stop. Finally he came to another room, filled with tools and equipment and spare parts, cluttered work tables with a thin layer of dust and frost on top of half-finished projects.  At the back was another cryotube and this was where Bucky stopped.  He wiped a hand over the condensation that covered the glass, revealing the face of the man inside. He looked about the same age as Bucky, with dark messy hair and dusky skin.  His eyes were closed, of course, thick lashes resting on his cheeks, but Bucky knew that his eyes were brown. “This is it.  Him. I was trying to remember him,” he said, pressing his palm to the glass.

“Who is he?”

Bucky bit his lip.  “I don’t...” But that was a lie. Memories started coming fast and hard, creating a sharp pain in his temples. He remembered that the man lying there in the tube had meant _repair,_ had meant _maintenance,_ had been _reward_ and sometimes, when one or both remembered enough, had been _home._  “I…I’m not sure,” he said instead, which was more than half a lie, and started to get a sick feeling in his stomach.

 

_After the target was dead, and the witness was eliminated, the asset hesitated when he heard a groan from the back of the car. He leaned in to look at saw a young man, barely past his teens, bleeding from where he’d struck his head when the car ran into the tree. The asset hesitated; the woman had been on the target list, but there had been no mention of the youth. He called it in to mission control and got an answer immediately: bring the Stark heir back to base._

 

“That’s _Tony Stark?_ ” Steve echoed in surprise.

Fury dropped a file folder on the table; paperclipped to the front was the man in the tube as a young man.  According to the file, the last time he’d been seen was when he’d come home from college for Christmas break – he’d disappeared the same time Howard and Maria Stark died.  It was the most famous mystery of the 1990s and countless imposters had come forward over the years claiming to be the heir of the Stark fortune.  “Yes.  All this time, he’d been working for Hydra.”

“Willingly?”

“Not the way Barnes describes it.”

Steve sighed and closed the file without reading too closely at the results of the medical scans of the still frozen man; he still had nightmares from reading Bucky's file.  “Any idea what you are going to do with him?” He said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

“We don’t have much of a choice.  Gotta thaw him out eventually, but it would be nice if Barnes could tell us more about him.”

“I understand.”  Steve started to slide the folder back across the table to Fury, but Fury stopped his hand.  “Keep it.  Maybe it will jog his memory.”

Steve scrubbed his hand over his face as he went back to his rooms.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bucky sitting on the couch, so he called out, “Hey, Buck.”  He kicked off his shoes and was grabbing a glass from the cabinet when he realized that Bucky hadn’t answered.  “Buck?” He came around the bar to see that Bucky was staring at the far wall, eyes distant as tears streamed down his face.  “Bucky?” He fell to his knees beside the couch, waving a hand in front of Bucky’s face.  “Christ, Bucky, what’s wrong?”

After a moment Bucky turned to look at Steve, Steve got a chill from the shattered look in his red-rimmed eyes.  “Steve,” he said, his voice raw and broken, breathing ragged.  “I remember.  I remember all the things I did to him.”

 

_The asset pinned the young Stark against the wall, the metal hand a cold and unyielding vice around his neck.  Any time he struggled, the asset merely tightened his hand until his eyes went dim and his struggles ceased.  Eventually the dark-haired youth got the message._

_“You seem to think that since you’ve lost your family and your freedom, you’ve got nothing else to lose, is that right?” His handler paced around them, hands behind his back as he studying the youth thoughtfully.  He paused and drew a knife from his pocket, flipping the blade open with a click that seemed loud in the concrete cell.  “But you are mistaken. Look at our friend here,” his handler said tapped the blade against the asset’s metal wrist. “You can lose limbs.  You don’t need your feet, for example, to build weapons for us.”  He tapped the youth’s cheek with the flat part of the blade; the asset tightened his grip warningly when the youth tried to flinch away.  “It would be a shame to ruin such a pretty face.  And if all else fails, there’s always the chair.  Would you like to tell him about the chair?” His handler asked, turning to face the asset._

_The asset kept his face blank at the thought of the chair even as cold fear dripped down his spine.  “The chair is for recalibration of malfunctioning assets,” he recited mechanically, voice coarse from lack of use. “The chair is also required for regular maintenance.”_

_The handler smiled approvingly and the asset relaxed, exhaling silently. The handler began to pace again, turning the knife over and over in his hand.  “Believe me when I say that you don’t want the chair.  So just be a good boy and when we say jump, ask how high.” The asset watched the youth as he watched the knife, and he wanted to beg the youth to just listen, to behave. To obey and save himself.  But even though the youth stayed silent, the asset could see the defiance in his eyes._

_The handler could too.  “You don’t seem convinced,” he said with mock disappointment.  “Well, it’s early yet.  But we can’t have you escaping, can we? Break his leg,” he ordered. The asset didn’t hesitate as he put a clean fracture in the youth’s left tibia with a precise strike of his heavy steel-toed boot. Neither the asset nor the handler flinched as the young man screamed and writhed, still pinned against the wall. The handler waited patiently for the screams to die down into sobs before he spoke again._

_“Now escort him to medical.  A permanently damaged asset would be less than ideal at this stage.”  The asset moved to pick up the youth but his handler stopped him with a sharp gesture.  “No.  Make him walk.  Just be sure he gets there.”_

Steve tried to put his arms around Bucky but Bucky pushed him away, not wanting to be touched while these memories were still crawling through his mind and under his skin. Finally he gave up and took a seat next to him.  “Look, Bucky, that wasn’t you, nobody blames you for what you did-”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Bucky said, head buried in his hands. He let out a bitter ruin of a laugh.  “I’ve got these – these _memories_ and Christ, Steve, I was so in love with him but when they told me to hurt him I _did_ , even when –“ his breath became ragged and painful as his voice broke, “even as he _looked_ at me, and- and still I…”  Steve watched helplessly as Bucky bit his fist and closed his eyes, tears coursing down his face. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter has a dubcon scene in the form of a simulated nonconsensual sexual encounter; there is implied consent but it's also a "fuck or die" scenario.

_The asset was lying on his bunk staring at the ceiling when he heard scuffling and the sounds of a struggle in the hall outside his door.  He turned his head slightly to track the noises as they grew closer, and it wasn’t long before he could hear smothered protests and the sniggers of the guards. His cell door opened and the guards threw someone inside, who tripped on the uneven concrete and fell hard to the floor with a curse.  The door slammed shut again and then there was the shrill sound of metal on metal as they opened the viewing window set into the door.  Sitting up, his eyes flickered to the viewing window, where he could still hear the heavy breathing of the guards, and then down to the man they’d thrown to the wolf._

_It was the young man, of course, leg still healing from its break.  He stood and came over to where the youth was picking himself up off the floor, hissing a little at the scrapes he’d gotten from the rough concrete._

_“Get up,” the asset growled, and the man looked up at him mutinously. He stepped closer, crowding his space and said, “Unless you want to stay on your knees?”_

_The youth’s eyes widened at that, when he realized his face was level with the asset’s groin.  He scrambled to his feet, limping backwards until his back was to the wall. “Stay the hell away from me,” he hissed._

_The asset shook his head and fisted his hand in the youth’s shirt, ignoring his struggles as he dragged him across the room to his bunk and threw him on the thin mattress.  Hampered by his leg, the youth tried to crawl away but the asset straddled him and pinned him to the bed with his weight.  He felt the young man freeze underneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly.  Leaning down he put his face close to the man’s ear and whispered, “This is a test. They want to know what you’re going to do.”_

_“W-what?” He could feel fine-boned tremors going through the young man’s frame._

_“Are you going to take it or are you going to fight?”  He glanced at the open window in the cell door and saw the youth’s eyes narrow as he understood._

_"You mean, fight like this?” The asset raised an eyebrow when he felt the sharp point of a knife,_ his _knife, digging into his inner thigh even through the thick, coarse cloth of his pants.  He wondered if the youth knew he was right above the femoral artery or if he was just lucky.  Either way it was impressed that he’d managed to get his boot knife without the asset noticing._

_"Yes. Like that.” Faster than the youth could react, though, the asset grabbed his wrist and pulled it away, letting the light reflect along the blade before he tightened his hand enough to force the youth to drop it._

_"Holy shit, he grabbed his knife,” he heard one of the guards mutter as the knife hit the concrete floor. “Ballsy bastard.”_

_“Bet he’ll pay for that,” another one said._

_The asset pulled the man’s wrists over his head and secured them with one hand while the other was shoving the youth’s shirt up to his armpits.  His thoughts raced, trying to figure out how to get them both out of this, as he trailed his fingers over the youth’s narrow chest, watching goosebumps trail across the pale skin from the chill. “Do you understand what has to happen now? What you have to do?”_

_Beneath him, the youth swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, and nodded. “They want a show, don’t they?”_

_The asset grunted in confirmation as his hand went to his own pants. “I'm sorry.  I’ll try not to hurt you.”  The youth took a quick, deep breath and then the screaming and cursing started. The asset subdued his struggles effortlessly, pinning him down when the youth tried to throw him off._

_Climbing to his feet, he dragged the youth off the mattress and bent him over it instead, holding him down with his metal hand in the middle of his back. He saw the youth’s hand going for the knife on the floor so he seized his wrist and  twisted his arm behind his back, stopping when he felt a flinch of actual pain. Tasting bile in the back of his throat, the asset pulled the young man’s pants down and pressed closer, letting him feel the hard line of his erection.  Burying his free hand in the man’s messy dark hair, he pulled his head back and muttered in his ear, “Make it believable.”  The young man’s hands were tight fists and his lips were pale, but the asset felt the barest nod just before he spat on his hand to slick himself up and slid between the youth’s thighs. As he thrust, he closed his eyes and tried to block out the youth’s (hopefully) faked sounds of pain, imagining a room that was warm and soft and private and instead of fear and hate in the youth’s eyes there was desire, that the cries in his ears were ones of pleasure-_

_With a surprised grunt the asset found himself coming, spilling into the tight, slick space between the man’s legs. For a few moments they just breathed together, harsh, quick pants, and then the asset wiped himself off on the man’s clothes and stood.  He stooped and retrieved his knife, slipping it back into his boot as the young man pulled his clothes back up, climbing shakily to his feet. The asset wrapped his metal hand around the young man’s throat as gently as possible and said lowly, “I am more valuable than you, but you are more valuable than them. They won’t dare to lay a finger on you if you stand up to them.”_

_The youth nodded as much as he was able, and the asset shoved him towards the door.  The guards outside opened and started to pull him out, but the youth slapped their hands away and pulled himself up as straight as he could._

_“If any of you touch me like that,” the youth said dangerously, voice hoarse from yelling, “you better pray than none of your gear, not a single bullet or gun or hand grenade, passes through my hands because one day there will be a malfunction and when you find yourself missing a hand or an eye you’ll know who did it and why.”  The asset found himself smiling at the tense silence that followed as the young man limped back down the hallway, followed by the reluctant footsteps of the guards._

After a few minutes of silence, where Steve struggled to find something to say that could possibly help, Bucky got up and went to his room, closing the door with a finality that meant that any knocks would be unwelcome.  Steve exhaled long and low and watched the room get dark around him.

" _I know who you are,” the youth muttered almost soundlessly, lips barely moving as he bent over the asset’s arm. “My dad has…had pictures of you and Captain America up in his office.”_

_The asset’s eyebrows drew together and he shifted minutely, flexing his metal fingers slightly.  The young man glanced up and their eyes met for a moment before he looked back down at his work.  “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes and you were born in 1917,” he said, voice still so quiet that a normal person wouldn’t have heard him, even sitting as close as they were.  “You served in the 105 during World War II…” he continued, and the asset went very still and his breathing grew shallow as the memories came._

_The youth fell silent as he closed up the asset’s arm._

_"What…what did they call me?” the asset whispered._

_"Bucky. They called you Bucky.”_

_“And you?”_

_The young man’s brown eyes were sad and tired and scared when he looked up.  “I’m Tony.”_

 

Hunger finally drove Steve from the couch, and when he came around the bar into the kitchen he saw his phone flashing notifications. When he put in his passcode he saw that he had a few missed calls, two from Fury, and a handful of texts. _Someone talked and now we’re starting to get some pressure from Stark Industries’ legal team.  We need to know what Barnes knows, pronto._ Steve looked at the closed door and sighed.

 

_The asset (bucky?) was back in maintenance after a sparring session with one of the other Winter Soldiers wrenched his metal arm out of alignment. The youth – Tony – glanced up from what he’d been working on when the asset was escorted in.  He was starting to look haggard, the asset noted.  Almost three months of captivity had made him lose the rounded cheeks left over from childhood and stubble was starting to darken his jaw._

_Tony dragged a chair over to the maintenance table to join the asset as he sat and offered his arm. The guards slammed the door shut behind them as they left, uninterested in hanging around for what promised to be a long session with the mechanic._

_The asset waited until he couldn’t hear the guards any more before he dared to talk. “Tony?” he said quietly, to make sure he was remembering correctly, and was rewarded when Tony met his eyes with surprise._

_"Bucky,” Tony answered, and the asset let out a long exhale in relief.  His unreliable memory hadn’t been lying to him.  He had a name and it was Bucky._

_“Tell me more?” He asked, a step away from pleading._

_“What do you want to know?” Tony started taking the plates off the arm and disassembling it, trying to get to the framework underneath._

_“Did I…did I have a family?”_

_A line appeared on Tony’s forehead as he tried to concentrate.  “Yeah.  You had three younger sisters, I think.”_

_Bucky thought about that for a few moments, but no memories appeared.  “And you?”_

_"I don’t have a family anymore, remember?” Tony said bitterly.  “Thanks to you.”_

_Bucky swallowed the other questions that had been burning in his chest, remembering the crunch of bone under his fist. “I’m sorry,” he whispered._

_Tony’s jaw was tight for a while, but as he dug deeper and deeper into the arm, he forgot himself and started to hum under his breath.  Bucky sat very still, not wanting to remind Tony of his presence and make him stop humming._

 

“Bucky?” Steve called out cautiously, knocking on the bedroom door.  “We need to talk.”  When there wasn’t an answer he finally said, “I’m going to come in, ok?”  He eased the door open and hung his head.  Of course Bucky was gone.

 

_It was 87 minutes later when Tony finally straightened and stretched his back with a groan.  “I can do so much better than this,” he complained, tapping at the disassembled arm with a screwdriver.  “Whoever did this must have been making it up as they went along.”_

_Bucky didn’t respond, stomach turning as he remembered being held down while they screwed plates and rods into his ruined shoulder. Tony sighed and rolled his shoulders, brushing his hair out of his face. Bucky remembered the feeling of those strands running through his fingers and wanted to feel it again, but then he remembered why he had that memory so he looked away._

_“Any requests?”_

_Bucky looked back at Tony, confused by his expectant look. “What?”_

_“If I’m going to make you a new arm, do you have any requests?”_

_Bucky looked down at the arm lying in pieces on the table. With the plates off and wiring pulled aside, it looked strange and inhuman.  Bucky looked away. “Lighter,” he said gruffly._

_Tony nodded.  “I can do lighter. I am also going to rearrange the power structure, as it is it must lose power at your fingers.  Have you had a problem with grip strength?” When Bucky stared at him blankly, he waved away the question. “Never mind. Silly question.  Well, when I make the new one, you will notice the difference.” Bucky dipped his head in acknowledgement Tony sighed and leaned back over the table, resting his chin in his hands.  “Look, I’m sorry for earlier,” he said in a low voice.  “I shouldn’t have said that."_

_“You were right. I did-"_

_"But I’m sure you didn’t want to. Right? I mean, I don't think that you like to hurt people, do you?"_

_“I’d like to hurt some people,” Bucky said after a moment of hesitation, thinking of the guards waiting outside, the other Winter Soldiers…his handler._

_Tony barked out a laugh. “Fair enough. Anyway. Um, truce?”_

_“Truce,” Bucky repeated, feeling something inside him grow warm at Tony’s smile._


	3. Chapter 3

In retrospect, Steve should have looked for Bucky here first, but he’d checked all of Bucky’s preferred hiding spots instead – the corner of the roof that got the most sun, the corner of the roof with the best view, the library in a mostly deserted corner of the compound. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said tiredly as he approached.  Bucky’s eyes were dry but red-rimmed as he sat by the cryotube.  “Fury needs to talk to you about Tony.  We’re going to have to wake him up, and we need you to give us the best guess of what we’re going to be facing when that happens.”

“Yeah.  Ok,” Bucky said hoarsely.  He cleared his throat. “I’ll tell you what I remember.”

_As Bucky rode back from the mission, he stared straight ahead, face blank, ignoring the copper stench of blood and the chatter of his insertion team, and lived instead in the last conversation he’d had with Tony.  He was greedy to hear more, to have a place to escape to that wasn’t here, that wasn’t this.  He absently flexed his metal hand and as the plates clicked and recalibrated he was pleased to hear a gear grinding somewhere inside. Perhaps he would be sent back to maintenance and he could talk to Tony again._

_He felt his heart leap when he was led towards the maintenance room, but his footsteps stuttered when he saw Tony being dragged down the hallway, kicking and screaming._

_“Oh, good, you’re back,” his handler said.  “Someone tried to escape while you were gone.  Take him to the chair.”_

_The warm feeling deep in his chest that had been growing since he’d heard “I know who you are” went cold and dark, turning into jagged shards that hurt when he breathed. He avoided Tony’s terror-filled brown eyes as he put a hand on the back of his neck and half-dragged, half marched him to the chair.  His jaw was so tight that it hurt as he held Tony down while they fastened the straps around his wrists and chest.  He stepped back to let them place the bands around Tony’s head, keeping his eyes focused on the far wall so he didn’t have to watch._

_“Bucky! Please! Don’t let them do this!” Tony begged, and he forced himself to stay impassive, to stay still. The slightest reaction would betray him._

_The machine made a high-pitched whine as it warmed up.  Bucky felt the hair on the back of his neck rise at the sound._

_“Who the hell is Bucky?” his handler said as he came up to stand beside him, scowling._

_“I don’t know,” Bucky said.  After a breathless moment his handler shrugged._

_“Go get cleaned up for the mission debrief.  By the time we’re done, this one should be all set to do the repairs to your arm.”_

_Bucky turned on his heels as the screams started._

_An hour later he returned to maintenance, and when he entered Tony looked up at him without recognition. He swallowed thickly as he sat in the chair and offered his arm. As Tony opened his arm with the barest hesitation and started working, Bucky closed his eyes and told himself it was for the best._

 

“Well,” Fury leaned back in his chair when Bucky was done.  Bucky stayed where he was, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together as he stared at the floor.  “That does explain a lot.  Is there anything else?”

Plenty.  Nothing Bucky was going to share, though. “What else do you need? He was mission support, that’s all. No combat training. No indoctrination protocols. Just a mechanic.”

Fury raised his eyebrow.  “Just a mechanic that made sure that Hydra’s technology was light years beyond anyone else’s.”

Bucky shrugged. “It's not like he's going to wake up and build a bomb. He's not a killer. Not like me.”         

 

_The next mission went sideways in a big way; the few members of the support team that survived had to help Bucky walk inside because he was too dizzy and lightheaded from pain and the loss of blood._

_“What happened?” His handler snapped, surveying the damage._

_"They were ready for us,” the team leader said, too exhausted to be wary of the tone in the handler’s voice. He jerked his head towards Bucky, who was sagging against the wall. “They found a way to disable his arm and almost walked all over us.”_

_“Fine. Get him to medical and bring number seven down.”_

_Number seven? Bucky thought fuzzily as he was finally able to lay down, the medical staff moving brusquely around him as they cut him out of his ruined combat rig and put in an IV. He must have lost consciousness then, because the next thing he knew the sound of the door closing woke him up.  The doctors were gone and some machines around him were beeping lethargically, and he felt dizzy from whatever was in the IV.  Dragging his eyelids open, he saw Tony pull a table closer to the bed and start unpacking his tools._

_“You’re number seven,” Bucky whispered, understanding dawning, and Tony nodded shortly. “No,” he said, and Tony frowned at him, tilting his head.  “I know who you are.  Your name is Tony.”  The words spilled out of him then, almost inaudible because he knew there were cameras watching and guards in the hall, but he knew that the chair was coming and someone had to remember. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes and you are Tony Stark.  I was born in 1917 and you were born in 1970…”_

“They’re starting the thawing procedures now,” Fury said.  “We’ll have doctors and some lawyers from Stark Industries are insisting on being present-”

Bucky started shaking his head before Fury could finish his sentence.  “No.  You’re going to freak him out if you have all those people around.  Let me do it.  You can have other people observe through cameras or a one way mirror or something.”

“Are you sure he’s going to remember you?” Steve said gently.

Bucky ran a hand over his face and then through his hair.  “It’s not about that.”

 

_If the asset could have remembered anything but the cold, he would have known that this was the first time he’d woken up to someone looking at him kindly instead of warily. When he opened his eyes, bones still aching from the cold, the first thing he saw was a hesitant smile and warm brown eyes under tousled brown hair._

_“Hey, buddy,” the man said. “Welcome back, I guess.” The asset blinked, knowing somehow that this was new and different, and then to his disappointment the face disappeared. After a few moments he registered a low voice in his ears, a running monologue as the man moved around the room.  Then the voice grew closer, and something warm and slight rough was being rubbed against his skin, his arms and legs and scalp, chasing the cold away.  The asset exhaled in grateful relief, flexing his hands and feet as sensation returned._

_The man offered a hand to help him sit up and the asset took it, heart thudding painfully in his chest when the man’s hand lingered a moment before letting go.  Seeing his confusion, the man touched him gently on the shoulder. “We only have a few minutes before they come for you,” he said quickly, voice low.  The asset sat up straight, senses sharpening, understanding that what was coming next was important. “I know who you are. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. People called you Bucky. My name is Tony Stark.”_

Having never experienced it from this side, Bucky didn’t realize how long the thawing process took.  Fury said the scientists were taking it easy, afraid of what would happen if they thawed him too quickly. Bucky could have said that he knew – it felt like touching a metal pole in the winter, but the cold was deep inside and radiating outward, spreading with every beat of your heart and making your muscles ache from the pain. Just thinking about it made him want to take a hot shower. 

Instead he waited patiently, watching for the small changes as Tony started to wake up.  His skin flushed as blood began circulating, the rise and fall of his chest grew more noticeable, and Bucky could see his eyes flickering under his eyelids.  When Tony’s fingers started twitching and his breathing grew shallower, Bucky grabbed the towel that had been warming by the cryotube’s exhaust vent and stood.

When Tony’s eyes opened, his gaze confused and disoriented, Bucky smiled down at him and brushed his hair away gently from his face. “Hey there,” he said softly, swallowing thickly. “Welcome back.”

 

_Bucky quickly learned that he hadn’t been woken for a mission, but for an upgrade.  His handlers put him through a grueling series of tests to gauge the current capabilities of his arm, but after that he was handed over to the mechanic to have his arm rebuilt. Tony’s face stayed blank and impassive as the guards turned and left, making Bucky feel a sharp stab of fear, but as soon as the door slammed closed a smile bloomed on Tony’s face._

_“Hey, Bucky,” Tony said, gesturing for him to come closer and have a seat.  Tony’s eyebrows drew together in confusion when Bucky approached diffidently, keeping his eyes on the floor.  The memories had come fast and hard after Tony had woken him up and given him back his name, almost to the point of distraction.  He remembered Tony, remembered the funny voices he made when he was telling stories, the sound of him singing under his breath when he was concentrating, and the look of betrayal in his eyes when Bucky had forced him into the chair._

_So when he sat, Bucky reached out impulsively and brushed his real fingers across the back of Tony’s hand.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, still not meeting Tony’s eyes.  He started to pull away but Tony turned his hand over to capture Bucky’s._

_“I know,” he said softly, squeezing Bucky’s hand before releasing it. “It’s not your fault.”_

 

Bucky gently started toweling Tony dry, chafing his skin to help him finish warming up and getting rid of the moisture that had always made Bucky feel clammy when he would thaw out.  Tony spent the whole time looking around the room in confusion, which was warm and well lit and a far cry from the damp, dark concrete maze he’d known for the past twenty years.

Bucky helped him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the cryo tube, keeping a hand on his shoulder.  He wanted to cry, he wanted to pull Tony close and kiss him, he wanted to run away – all of this and more was a hard knot under his breastbone, making it hard to breathe.  “How are you doing?”

“Hungry. Thirsty.”  Bucky had warned them that he would be, but the doctors insisted on doing tests before he was allowed to eat.

“We’ll get to that.  But first, can you tell me what you remember?”

Tony rubbed his eyes as he thought, shaking his head slightly.  When he brought his hands down, his eyes caught on an old scar on the right one, skin smooth and shiny.  Bucky’s metal hand tightened into a fist and his breath hitched.   _Bucky watched as one of the other Winter Soldiers held Tony’s hand still as the handler pressed red hot iron to it, burning the shape of a 7 into Tony’s skin. Bucky closed his eyes briefly as Tony let out a groan of pain behind gritted teeth._ _“There,” his handler said in satisfaction. “Maybe he’ll remember his place now.”_

“Seven,” Tony said, looking up at Bucky for confirmation.

“No. Never again,” Bucky swore.  “Your name is Tony Stark and you are free.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“What did you do to my arm?” Bucky growled, grabbing Tony by his throat and lifting him onto his toes.  He heard the guards down the hall stop in their tracks to stare._

_“I don’t know what- I’m sorry, I can fix it!” Tony pleaded. “Don’t-“ he made a gurgling sound like Bucky was choking him into silence._

_“Now,” Bucky demanded, narrowing his eyes at Tony warningly. He shoved Tony towards the maintenance shop, stalking after him as Tony hurried down the hall. Behind them the guards said something to each other, and Bucky prayed they wouldn’t come investigate. But eventually they just kept walking the other way, and his shoulders relaxed in relief._

_Tony hurried to let himself into the maintenance shop and came around one of the desks as if grateful to put it between him and a furious Winter Soldier. As soon as Bucky came through the door and slammed it behind him, Tony hit a button and the red lights on the cameras in the room started to blink._

_“Ha,” Tony said, and held up his middle fingers at them. Bucky found himself smiling, and when Tony turned to face him, looking smug and victorious, he leaned over and pressed his lips to Tony’s._

_When he pulled back, Tony looked stunned.  Bucky immediately felt ashamed. “I’m s-”_

_But Tony silenced him with another kiss. “No more apologies,” he whispered against Bucky’s mouth. Bucky felt hands framing his face, cool and rough with callouses, as Tony kissed him again and that was the happiest Bucky could ever remember feeling._

_Too soon, though, Tony pulled away.  “We don’t have much time,” he said regretfully, and Bucky nodded as they got to work._

Bucky had negotiated them to thirty minutes of time alone with Tony once he woke up, and he spent the time holding his hands as he gave him back their memories, every word that they had ever passed back and forth after the chair.  A knock on the door was a one minute warning so he squeezed Tony’s hands one last time and let go.  “There are people here who need to talk to you, doctors to make sure that you’re ok.  They’ll give you everything you need, yeah?”

“What about you?” 

“What do you mean?” Tony glanced at the door and Bucky understood.  “If you want to see me again, just ask. I'm not going to be far away.” Bucky’s hands itched to touch, wanting to wrap around Tony and never let go, but instead he clasped them behind his back and stepped aside for the doctors to come in.

 

_Bucky was dozing lightly when voices in the hall woke him. He sat up sharply when he realized that one of those voices was Tony’s, yelling angrily. Then his cell door was opened and Tony was shoved through, still cursing._

_“This one is starting to forget who’s in charge around here,” one of the guards said with a sneer. “Put him in his place.”_

_When he saw the purple swelling near Tony’s eye and the blood on his chin from a split lip, Bucky didn’t have to fake an angry snarl as he stood and approached the guards.  The guards backed away quickly and slammed the door, this time apparently more interested in making a quick escape than staying to watch._

_“Bastards,” Tony spat, kicking the door. “I caught them stealing from the armory and they threw me in here for plausible deniability.”_

_With a long exhale, Bucky captured Tony’s chin and held him still while he pressed cool metal fingers to the bruise around his eye.  After a moment Tony sighed and leaned his head into the touch.  “I think what really might have pissed them off is when I kicked one of them in the nuts,” Tony admitted. Bucky snorted in amusement._

_“Anywhere else?” Tony wasn’t moving like he was injured, but-_

_“Them or me?” Bucky huffed and Tony grinned like he thought he was clever.  He pointed to the cut on his lip and said, “Kiss it and make it better?”_

_Bucky had been wrong._ This _was the happiest he could ever remember feeling.  With a slow smile he buried his hands in Tony's silky hair, feeling the strands curl lightly around his fingers, and held Tony still as he leaned over to brush a barely there kiss across the cut on Tony's mouth, tongue flicking over it lightly. Tony made a quiet noise, almost like a sigh, and his eyes slid closed while Bucky pressed another feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his eyelids and temple.  He rested his forehead against Tony's and they breathed together for a few moments; then Tony made a thoughtful noise deep in his chest and tilted his head up to capture Bucky's mouth, tongue running over the seam of his lips until Bucky let him inside with a groan.  As his tongue thrust inside, hot and wet and eager, curling around Bucky's, setting a rhythm that Bucky felt at the base of his spine, Tony's hands slid under Bucky's shirt.  Bucky inhaled a ragged breath at the feeling of Tony's hands on his skin, nails raking up his ribs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.  Bucky went still, breathing shallowly, not wanting to do anything that would make Tony stop, that would interfere with the miracle of Tony's body pressed eagerly against his own.  His knees got weak when he felt how hard Tony was; he wanted to drop to the floor and put his mouth on him, press his thumbs to the hip bones that sometimes showed above the line of Tony's pants and hear the noises as Tony came apart above him -_

_Noises._

_"The guards," Bucky whispered against Tony's mouth with whimper.  They were approaching quickly; someone must have noticed that Tony wasn't where he was supposed to be._

_Tony groaned and bit Bucky's lip as he pulled away, then suddenly there was a screwdriver pressed against Bucky's carotid artery.  Bucky suppressed a smile as Tony said, "Get your fucking hands off me," and backed away, almost running into the guards as they opened the cell door.  Bucky sat down on his cot, knees wide, and saw Tony's eyes go dark as he eyed the thick line of Bucky's erection._

_"Did we interrupt your fun?" One of the guards leered but Bucky ignored him, keeping his eyes on Tony's until the cell door slammed closed._

 

“So?” Steve asked expectantly as Bucky joined him in one of the observation rooms. “How did it go?”

Bucky shrugged.  “It will take a while for all of the memories to come back.” He watched the video feed as Tony submitted to the doctors’ poking and prodding. “What’s going to happen now?”

Steve sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, which meant that he disagreed with what he was about to say but wasn’t committed to fighting about it yet.  “Fury got a warrant allowing him to keep Tony here until ‘such times as he can be proven to not be a threat to national security.’”

Bucky went still as rage swept through him.  “So he just went from one prison to another?” He said carefully. 

Steve heard the note in his voice and stepped between him and the door, holding his hands up even though Bucky hadn't moved. “Look, you have to admit that there is at least a possibility that he has trigger words you don’t know about.  Fury's just playing it safe.”

Bucky’s mouth opened to protest and then he shut it again, turning away and running his hands through his hair, tugging a bit in frustration.  “How do you _prove_ something like that?”

Steve shrugged helplessly.  “But it sounds like Stark Industries is trying its best to get Tony out of here, so maybe let the lawyers duke it out while Tony…” They both glanced at the screen, where Tony was staring into space while doctors recorded his vitals and took blood. “Gets better,” Steve finished.

 

_Bucky stared hard at Tony as they sat across from each other in the personnel carrier, flanked by members of the insertion team on each side.  His handler had decided that Tony was to assist in the mission, to gather intel and leave behind a computer virus.  Bucky had gotten a sinking feeling when he’d heard the mission briefing, and the longer Tony avoided meeting his eyes, the worse it got._

_It’s a test, Bucky’s instincts were screaming.  Tony’s obedience was being tested, and from the set of Tony’s shoulders, he was going to fail. As Bucky went the motions for the mission, every step felt like he was going to an execution.  He knew exactly when Tony would make his move, and he knew the others were expecting it too, knew it from the way they were watching him._

_Don’t, Bucky pleaded in his mind. He wanted to pull Tony back, pull him away from the wolves that were waiting for him to run.  But when the team split he left without looking back._

_When his mission was done, he jogged back to the extraction point with barely concealed urgency.  The personnel carrier was waiting with the engine running and Tony had been thrown into the back, arms and legs bound with military grade zip ties. He was scraped up and bloody but alive. His eyes were unrepentant when they met Bucky’s._

_The team leader grinned and nudged Tony with the toe of his boot.  “Caught him trying to escape, just like the boss thought.  What do you think is going to happen to him?”_

_Bucky went cold and his chest tightened as he climbed into the carrier, remembering what they’d done to him when he’d tried to escape._

“Tony’s been asking for you,” Steve said, finally cornering Bucky in the kitchen.

“I know," Bucky sighed and braced himself on the counter, hanging his head. “But I can’t just…make small talk while I wait for him to remember all the things I…to remember everything.”  When Steve was silent, Bucky glanced up to see Steve studying him. “What?”

“Buck, what do you want to happen here? With Tony?”

“I want him to be happy.  After everything, he deserves that, to be able to do whatever he wants and not be afraid anymore.”  Bucky’s heart squeezed at the thought; God, Tony was going to change the world and Bucky couldn’t wait to see it happen.

“Do you want to be a part of that?”

“I…” Bucky took a deep breath to keep his voice steady.  “He deserves better,” he said instead of answering.  Tony deserved someone beautiful and smart and competent, someone who could lift Tony up instead of dragging him down.  He looked down at his hands and remembered washing Tony’s blood off of them and swallowed against the queasiness.

“Bucky, you deserve good things, too,” Steve said softly. “You deserve to be happy.”

Bucky shook his head. “You don’t understand, Steve.”   _“Hit him again,” his handler ordered. “Until he learns to stay down.”_ When he met Steve’s eyes, his gaze was bleak. “With Hydra, he was my reward.  But I was his punishment.”

 

_“Well, this would be disappointing if it wasn’t so predictable,” his handler said as he considered Tony, still bound and little more banged up from where the insertion team had dragged him inside and thrown him into the sparring cage. The other Winter Soldiers were starting to circle and in the corners of the room guards were taking bets. “What should we do with him?”_

_As suggestions were called out Tony blanched and struggled to sit. Bucky’s hands curled into fists at the cruder ones, stomach turning.  His mind raced for an out, a way to shield Tony from-_

_After a moment the handler waved his hand and everyone fell silent, silent enough to hear Tony’s harsh breathing.  “Well, you know, if he wants to be free so badly, maybe we should let him go.”  A nasty laughter erupted through the room.  “How long do you think it will take for him to beg to come back?”_

_Bucky forced himself to stay, to listen to Tony pounding on the metal door to the bunker and pleading to come back inside.   He listened while the pounding grew weaker and weaker until his handler checked his watch and gave Bucky the nod.  The sub-zero temperatures hit Bucky like a wall of ice as opened the door, the wind gusting snow inside the entrance.  He picked Tony up and carried him to medical, praying that it wasn’t too late._

 

“So how long are you going to keep him here, Fury?” Bucky said, slamming the door to Fury’s office while his secretary winced behind him.  “It’s been a week.  You haven’t found any triggers and Tony has jumped through all your little hoops and passed with flying colors.”

“Barnes,” Fury said calmly, waving a hand at the chair across from him.  “Have a seat. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Bucky scowled and closed the door behind him. “What?”

Fury leaned his elbows over the desk and interlaced his fingers. “You said in your report that you were instructed to bring Tony Stark to Hydra after Howard and Maria Stark were dead.”

“Yes,” Bucky said flatly, never happy to be reminded if that. "And?"

“Did you ever find out who gave the order?”

“My handl- Pierce,” Bucky corrected.  “Everything went through Pierce.”

“Did you ever wonder why? Why take Tony? Why not kill him too, or leave him at the scene?”

“No,” Bucky said slowly, after a long moment of thought.  “I assumed Hydra saw him as a potential asset, so…”

“Possibly,” Fury allowed, leaning back in his chair. “But what if it was less about what Hydra was getting, and more about Hydra was…removing?”

Bucky sat back too, and thought.  “You think Hydra was getting Tony out of the way? Why? For who?”

Fury nodded.  “Obadiah Stane took over Stark Industries as a temporary measure when Tony Stark went missing.  He’s never taken the steps to have Tony declared dead, even after all this time. Odd, since he's been gone for almost two decades.  But then, if he had, the company would probably gone public and he would have lost control of the company and the Stark fortune.”

“And now Stane is trying to get you to release Tony,” Bucky said, feeling his insides go cold.  “But...that would mean that Stane would have to step down, right?”

“Unless a tragic accident happens.” Fury spread his hands wide.  “I mean, the possibilities are endless.” He started counting on his fingers.  “Suicide, he snaps and attacks someone and is killed in self-defense, crazed fan kills him in a murder suicide, even a car accident.”

 “So you’ve been keeping him here for his own safety? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Until I know how Stane found out that Tony was here, I don’t trust anyone but you and Steve.  But Steve’s got a shit poker face, so. Right now, it’s just me and you.”

Bucky ran his hands over his face. “Fuck.  So what are we going to do?”

“Well, first, you’re going to have to suck it up and talk to him,” Fury said.  “Because he hasn’t stopped asking for you, and I’m afraid of what he’ll do if he starts to think we’re keeping you separated on purpose.”


	5. Chapter 5

_It took almost two weeks for Tony to recover.  Every time Bucky watched him shuffle laboriously around the maintenance shop his chest hurt. Tony was still pale, too pale, and he periodically flexed his hands like they pained him; Bucky wanted to hold him tight and force him to rest but Tony was determined to work even harder on his project._

_“Stop fighting,” Bucky begged.  The set of Tony’s jaw terrified him. “Don’t give them a reason to take this from you. From us.” The only reason Tony hadn’t been sent to the chair was because they wanted him to remember the consequences of trying to escape._

_“If I stop fighting, what’s the point of having it?” When Tony looked at him, his eyes blazed. “I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to live with a boot on my neck.”_

_Bucky heard the reproach in Tony’s words and looked away.  “I’ve escaped before,” he said softly.  “Once, I was free for three months, one week and four days.  When they found me…” He shook his head, lips tight. He didn’t want to bring memories like that here, with Tony.  “I learned that you can never be free.  There is only this, and how long it takes for them to bring you back here.”_

_Tony shook his head. “No. I refuse to believe that,” he said.  “I’m going to get out and then I’m going to get you out and burn Hydra to the ground.”_

_With a sigh, Bucky pulled him close and buried his face in Tony’s messy dark hair, smelling grease and gun oil and Tony.  Tony felt so warm and alive in his arms, hair tickling his nose, stubble scraping his collarbone, breath hot on his skin, arms tight around him.  For a moment Bucky closed his eyes and breathed deeply, shivering slightly when he felt lips brush his throat and press a kiss there. When he opened his eyes he saw the suit Tony was building and tried to feel the stubborn hope that Tony did._

_He had a few seconds of warning when he heard footsteps in the hallway, but it wasn’t enough.  The door opened behind them, and Tony’s face managed to get paler when the guard chuckled and activated his stun baton._

_Bucky didn’t even know what he was planning until he caught the baton with his metal hand before it could touch skin. “No,” Bucky said, curling his lip, and crushed it. The guard’s eyes got huge and he stumbled backwards as he hit the panic button on his radio._

_Tony seemed to understand what Bucky was going to do before Bucky did.  “Bucky, stop! Don’t-” He tried to grab for Bucky’s arm as Bucky stalked towards the door but Bucky shrugged him off. “Don't do this! You don’t understand, they won’t hurt me like they’ll hurt you!”_

_“They almost killed you,” Bucky growled, “and I watched.  I'm not doing that again.” He shoved Tony back into the shop and slammed the door, crushing the door lock to jam it closed.  Ignoring Tony’s frantic pounding, he rolled his shoulders and started hunting._

When Bucky finally screwed up his courage to visit Tony, he found him on the couch studying something on the television, teeth worrying his bottom lip in concentration.  Bucky's eyes drank him in greedily; he'd had a haircut and his cheeks were smooth, without the stubble Bucky was used to.  It made him look younger, like the years with Hydra had never happened. 

Behind him, the door clicked shut. Tony looked up at the sound and Bucky felt guilt curdle in his stomach when Tony’s eyes lit up.

“Bucky,” Tony said with a warm smile that Bucky tried to return.  When he gestured for him to come closer, Bucky came around the couch to see that Tony had jury-rigged a bunch of wires from the laptop to the TV and his stomach sank when he saw that, despite Fury's order to keep him on a media blackout, Tony was looking at CNN.

“This was you, wasn’t it?” Tony tapped the keyboard and a video of helicarriers crashing into the Potomac came up. “You escaped.”  _You left,_ is what Bucky heard, and his throat got tight.  He struggled to find a way to apologize for everything, for leaving Tony in that _hell_ while he- “Thank God.”

Tony’s words were so unexpected that Bucky looked up in surprise. “What?”

“So is it all over?” Tony was gesturing at the flaming wrecks on the screen with barely contained glee. “Because we always said we’d burn it down, and that’s a lot of burning right there.”

 _We_ said-? He opened his mouth to talk, hesitated, closed it again, and cleared his throat. “What do you remember, exactly?”

           

_Bucky spent weeks in a pitch black cell without food or water, broken and bleeding and screaming for Tony. When the door finally opened he barely had the strength to flinch away from the painfully bright light, much less struggle as the guards dragged him out._

_They took him straight to the chair.  Tony was the one to flip the switch, his eyes blank and dispassionate._

 

“What do you mean?” Tony finally looked away from the television, where the video had switched to a recording of the news headlines announcing Alexander Pierce’s death and ties to Hydra.  Bucky consciously avoided looking at the screen; he still couldn’t look at his ha- at Pierce without feeling queasy.  Tony tilted his head curiously at Bucky and closed the laptop, turning to face him directly.  “I remember everything.  What do _you_ remember?”

Bucky stared at him, stunned to find not a hint of bitterness or anger or accusation in Tony’s eyes. He stood and realized his flesh hand was trembling. “No, that’s…impossible,” he said, shaking his head in denial as he backed away. “I…I have to go-”

“No!” Tony climbed over the arm of the couch and vaulted over an armchair to reach the door before Bucky.  “I know who you are,” Tony said fiercely, holding his arms out to keep Bucky from leaving. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes and you were born in 1917.  I am Anthony Edward Stark and I was born in 1970.  I remember _everything.”_

“You never told me your middle name was Edward,” Bucky said weakly, taking a wary step back when Tony took a step forward.

“And if you ever call me Ed, Ted, or Ned I will end you,” Tony said when he took another step forward, narrowing his eyes when Bucky backed up again.  “Now tell me what the hell is going on here.”

 

_The asset had been sitting in the maintenance shop for seventeen minutes when he realized that number seven had been staring at something in his arm for fourteen of those minutes, watching something blink. His brow was furrowed, brown eyes sharp with concentration as he watched the light.  The asset glanced down to see what he was studying with such focus and realized that the light in question was blinking in a recognizable pattern._

_Number seven grabbed a pen and started writing on his hand, dots and dashes that teased at something deep in the asset’s memory._

_“Dot dot,” number seven read._

_“I,” the asset said without thinking._

_“Dash dot dash…dash?”_

_The asset shook his head, watching the light. “Dash dot dash. K.”_

_“Dash dot.”_

_“N.”_

_“Dash dash dash.”_

_“O.”_

_“Dot dash dash.”_

_“W.”_

_It was a long message, whatever it was. “I know who you are, your name is Bucky,” number seven read off when they were done, and their eyes met. “Bucky?”_

_"Tony,” the asset answered automatically, and number seven looked confused._

_"Your name is Tony?”_

_"No._ Your _name is Tony,” Bucky said. “I know who you are, too.”_

     

“Why have you been avoiding me? Couldn’t have been a good reason, or you wouldn’t have shown up looking all...oh, Bucky.”  Tony’s eyes went from suspicious to soft as Bucky looked away.  He reached out to run a gentle finger across the back of Bucky’s hand, tracing one of the thin scars there.  “You can’t do that, ok? Stop blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”

“But it is, though,” Bucky said, drawing back from Tony’s touch.  He wasn't surprised that Tony had understood so quickly; Tony had always been able to read him like a book.  “The things I did, especially to _you-_ ”

“Stop. No.” Tony cut him off sharply. “Don’t let Hydra off the hook for that by blaming yourself,” he said, jabbing a finger into Bucky’s chest. “And don’t…don’t make the only good memories I have of that place ugly by regretting them, or telling me that they were actually bad memories.”

“ _Good_ memories?” Bucky repeated.

Tony nodded and flattened his palm against Bucky’s chest.  The warm weight of it felt good so Bucky covered his hand with his own to keep it there.  “I mean, Jesus. I was so young when I got there and even though you were a scary looking bastard you were the only one there that didn’t like to hurt people. Then when you, you know, became _you_ , you were so…gentle. Kind.” Tony stepped closer and his other hand came up to cup Bucky’s face, thumb stroking along his cheekbone.  “Protective. I know you let them hurt you so they wouldn’t hurt me.  It made me want to be strong for you.”

Bucky ran a hand over the back of his neck, feeling his face get warm from the earnestness in Tony’s eyes. “You were like a fire in the dark,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on Tony’s collarbones so he could get the words out.  “Like the sun. So bright and warm when everything was so cold and dark, it almost hurt to look at you.”

 

_“Why is there a blinking light in your arm?” number seven said, scowling down at the asset’s disassembled arm.  In a few days he would remember that this was the fifth time he’d discovered that light._

_“I don’t know,” the asset said, looking up from where he was pushing washers off the work table for number seven’s robot DUM-E to pick up off the floor. “It doesn’t do that on missions.”_

_“No? Huh.”_

_The asset shrugged and pushed off another washer for the bot.  He liked the beep the bot made when it picked up something off the floor; number seven had designed it to keep the maintenance shop tidy.  Sometimes if the asset sat very still on the floor, it would try to pick up his metal hand, which always made number seven laugh.  The asset’s secret favorite thing was number seven’s laugh, followed by his smile, followed by the way he bit his lip when he was concentrating.  Right now number seven was talking to himself as he tried to figure out what the light was for, and the asset let the words wash over him, knowing that number seven likes to talk and doesn’t mind if the asset doesn’t always talk back._

_“Look, it’s not even blinking steadily,” he complained, resting his chin on his hand and drumming his fingers on his cheek.  The asset stopped playing with DUM-E and focused on the light that was vexing number seven.  “I don’t know if I installed this, or-”_

_“It’s a code,” the asset said in surprise. “Write this down.” The asset started reading off letters as number seven scrambled for something to write with._

Tony ducked his head so he could meet Bucky’s eyes.  “Do you still feel that way?” He asked, looking hopeful. “Because I’m looking forward to being with you without having to do the whole ‘lovers in a dangerous time’ thing.”

“Of course I do,” Bucky said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Tony’s. “But...we weren’t, were we? Lovers?” Bucky felt his face get hot, which was _ridiculous._ Tony grinned in delight.  “I – I mean, I remember…”  He stopped himself before he confessed to jerking off in his cell to the thought of Tony’s mouth and what his hands might feel like on his skin.  “I just don’t remember anything like that, other than…you know.”

“No, we weren’t because that doesn’t count." Tony reached up to capture Bucky's hands and lace their fingers together.  "Want to start now?” Tony said with the same cheeky grin that Bucky remembered.

Bucky squeezed Tony's hands and kissed his temple and in that moment he stopped being afraid of Obediah Stane and pitied him instead.  Bucky would burn down the world before he let anyone hurt Tony again, and judging from the grip Tony had on his hands, he felt the same way.  "I love you," he whispered against Tony's skin. "Every time they made me forget, I just fell in love with you all over again."

Tony turned his head so their mouths just barely brushed, his breath gusting warmly against Bucky's lips. "Show me?" 


	6. Epilogue

_Bucky smiled and watched as Tony carefully shaved with one of Bucky's knives, making funny faces in a piece of polished metal as he carefully scraped away stubble from his cheeks. "What do you think?" he asked as he turned around to face Bucky.  Tony had shaved his cheeks smooth but left himself a scruffy goatee that still needed a few months to grow in;  Bucky struggled not to laugh but his thoughts must have shown on his face because Tony turned away with a huff. "I figured I should look like a mad scientist, since I'm locked up here making weapons for Hydra.  Shall I do you?" he asked, catching Bucky's eye in the makeshift mirror._

_Bucky shook his head.  "Weapons don't care what they look like."_

_Tony sighed and scratched at his beard, clearly trying to decide whether to keep it.  “At least the stubble looks good on you.  I just look like a hobo.”_

Bucky woke up from a sex-induced doze to the feeling of Tony running his fingers along his jaw.  "For twenty years I wondered what you looked like under all that macho stubble," Tony mused.  "Nice to know it was worth the wait."

"Macho stubble?" Bucky snorted and opened his eyes to narrow slits to see Tony grinning at him, chin propped up on his other hand.  He turned his head to press a kiss to the wandering fingers. "It's not my fault for half that time you couldn't grow a beard.  Remember that ridiculous goate- _hey!"_  Bucky flinched away and captured Tony's hand as he goosed him in the side. 

"At least I don't look like a hippie," Tony countered, tugging on Bucky's hair with his free hand.  Bucky rolled and pinned him to the bed with his chest.

"You weren't complaining about it a few minutes ago," he purred, nudging Tony's knees apart to settle his hips between Tony's thighs.  Tony's eyes went dark at the reminder of burying his hands in that thick dark hair while Bucky drove him crazy with his mouth. 

"True," Tony agreed absently, distracted by the curve of Bucky's lips as he smiled.  He traced the curve of those lips, full and soft, and met Bucky's eyes.  "So what do we do now?"  

Bucky sighed and rested his head on Tony's sternum, listening to his heart beat.  "Well, eventually we have to unbarricade the door and talk to Fury and Steve.  Hydra isn't as destroyed as we'd like it to be, and apparently having the heir to one of the largest fortunes in America suddenly reappear after twenty years has created...complications."

"Let me guess, someone is butthurt that they're going to have to give all my money back?" Tony said dryly, kissing the top of Bucky's head.  "And it would be awfully convenient if something happened to me before then?"

"Pretty much."  Bucky lifted himself off Tony's chest and braced himself on his elbows to look down at Tony again.  "Fury thinks there's a serious chance someone is going to try to kill you."

Tony tucked Bucky's hair behind his ears so it would stop tickling his face and smiled smugly. "Jokes on them. I've got the world's greatest assassin in my bed."  He wrapped his legs around Bucky's hips and pulled him down for a kiss. "Let them come," he murmured against Bucky's mouth. He lost himself in slow, drugging kisses until a thought occurred to him and he made a noise and broke away.  "Hey did you know they legalized gay marriage?"

"I did in fact know that," Bucky said, dipping his head to nuzzle at Tony's sensitive neck, making him shiver. "There's this whole briefing thing, 'Welcome to the 21st Century.'  I think you'll probably be getting it soon. Why?"

"Let's get hitched."

Bucky went still, then pressed one more kiss to Tony's shoulder and sat up. "Tony," he started, but Tony reached up and covered Bucky's mouth with his hand.

"Shhh," Tony hushed.  "Just let me be your sugar daddy, and you be my sexy trophy husband."

"I think I have to be younger to be your trophy husband," Bucky pointed out around Tony's hand, and Tony made  rude noise. "But that's not what I-"

"If it's going to be the same kind of self-sacrificing nonsense that made you slink around like a guilty puppy, I don't want to hear it.  If it was, 'wow, this seems really fast, Tony,' let me remind you, I've literally known you longer than anyone else in my life, and we can have a long engagement or whatever kids are doing these days.  I love you, and you said you love me, and if you don't  _want_ to get married, that's different.  We can live in sin, that works for me too.  Just as long as we're together, yeah?"

Bucky studied Tony for a moment over the hand that was pressed to his mouth, then kissed his palm and pressed it to his chest, over his heart that was pounding like mad. "Of course, Tony. Me and you."  The smile that bloomed on Tony's face was like sunrise after a stormy night.  "But you're going to have to do a better proposal than that."

 

_"The asset is growing increasingly erratic," the stranger noted, scratching his beard thoughtfully.  "Any idea why?"_

_His handler shrugged while they studied Bucky like he was a malfunctioning piece of machinery. Keeping his face blank and his eyes vacant was a struggle, but he knew that they were debating whether or not he needed the chair and Bucky didn't want to lose Tony again. "No one knows. Number seven has a theory that the neural networks are degrading from repeated use of the chair, but who knows. All the original scientists are dead now."_

_"Number seven?"_

_"The Stark kid."_

_"Oh." The stranger laughed. "Not much of a kid anymore, it's been what, fifteen years? Anyway. Doesn't matter. Insight has been approved and construction is starting soon, then we won't need either of them anymore."_

 

Against Fury's protests, Tony's first action after leaving SHIELD headquarters was to head straight for Stark Industries to meet with Obadiah Stane. Whoever Stane's source was must have tipped him off because when he arrived Stane was there to greet him, striking the perfect balance of welcoming and solicitous. 

"And may I introduce my, hmm, we will go with protection detail, James Barnes?" After extricating his grip from Stane's, Tony stepped aside and gestured to Bucky. 

Watching Stane's smile disappear and his ruddy face go pale was everything Bucky could have hoped for. He had less hair on his head and more on his chin, and his beard was much more grey than it had been last time Bucky saw him, but it was definitely the stranger, Pierce's partner. Bucky held out his hand and smiled when Stane took it slowly. 

"A pleasure to meet you," Bucky said, squeezing tightly and putting his metal hand on top of Stane's. "I feel like I've seen you somewhere before."

"I doubt it," Stane said weakly, trying to get his hand back. If Bucky squeezed any harder, he would start breaking it.

"Well, I'm sure I'll remember eventually," Bucky said with an easy smile, still squeezing his hand. "In any event, I've heard a lot about you, you really had a...pivotal influence in Tony's life." 

At that, Stane glanced at Tony, who just pushed his sunglasses higher on his nose. When he smiled, it was all teeth. 


End file.
